Another pedigree champion sees Banksy looking to put more winnings in the bank.
Shock jock Ken goes to a wedding party where frenzied guests pitch stuff over a balcony. Then a plane crashes into the World Trade Centre and, oh dear, Ken's affair with "my god-you're beautiful" married woman sucks him into London's gangster underworld.
How can a contrary individual cope in a chaotic world?
Banks wrote this in six weeks... has it the puff to last the course?
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